


burning in your lungs

by meclea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, M/M, Unrequited Love, honestly everyone is Pretty Chill considering this is a hanahaki story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meclea/pseuds/meclea
Summary: It isn't supposed to be anything more than simple attraction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't that much of an uncommon piece of knowledge, but just in case, hanahaki disease is a fictional disease in which someone who falls in unrequited love pukes/coughs up flower petals

It isn't supposed to be anything more than simple attraction.

Kawanishi knows there's no fault in admiration. Finding someone attractive and liking aspects of their character in no way equates to being in love with them. The laid-back, unassuming affection Kawanishi has held for Shirabu since the tail-end of their first year has never been a cause for stress, because Kawanishi wants nothing from it. It's not a yearning, and it's not desperate. Kawanishi has a passive attraction.

Until he doesn't.

It's the second and probably last set against Aoba Johsai, and Shirabu sets the ball to Kawanishi, who slams it down without batting an eyelash. Seijoh's own number 12 is fast, but not fast enough to block the attack. Shiratorizawa's stands are wild, enthusiastic as they always are with each point they pick up. Kawanishi turns to Shirabu and holds out his hand for a high five, and Shirabu meets it with a small smile, smug and self-assured. It's a pride that's been more than earned after clawing his way to a starting position in the team of one of the most prestigious schools in the prefecture. The quiet, unobtrusive confidence fits Shirabu. The intensity, the talent, and the capricious self-containment; these all suit Shirabu as well. He's beautiful, Kawanishi thinks. He can't look away from that smile until the whistle blows, marking the beginning of the next play, and Shirabu's expression smooths into a calm focus. Kawanishi thinks that's beautiful, too.

There's a sudden uncomfortable pressure in the bottom of his lungs. He really hopes he's not getting sick; even if this match is nearing its conclusion, a game is not a convenient time to be ill, even if it _does_ mean he'll get to slack off a little. The unrest in his chest doesn't go away, not during the following plays and not during the subsequent show of victory. Kawanishi follows his team off the court with an agitated fluttering still there. He doesn't think he's going to choke, but something is definitely _wrong,_ even if he can't come up with an adequate comparison.

Kawanishi approaches Coach Washijou. "Can I step outside for a minute? It's stuffy in here."

"Make it quick," Washijou says with his permanent frown. "We board the bus in ten minutes and we're leaving with or without you. You can run all the way home if you don't hurry up."

"Yessir," Kawanishi slurs. Having been within earshot, Shirabu is side-eyeing him with brows puckered in concern. At that moment, Kawanishi's lungs constrict even more, and he excuses himself with uncharacteristic urgency.

Outside, he rounds a corner of the building and finds a nook lightly shielded from onlookers by a small tree and a row of bushes. Whatever has been upsetting his lungs is moving upwards, and quickly, too, and now Kawanishi _does_ think he's going to choke.

He leans forward as a violent coughing spell rakes through him, and then holds his hands up to his mouth when he realizes that he's coughing something up. He can't breathe as his body momentarily seizes under the force of his heaving. He can't tell if he's coughing or puking, but what's coming out of his mouth is dry and soft and not natural at all. By the time he's done, there are tears in his eyes, and he's shaking. The exhaustion he faced at the end of the Aoba Johsai match is nothing compared to his exhaustion now.

When his vision clears, he finds flower petals, white and delicate, cupped in his hands. He stares at them. Then he looks up at the sky, shoulders dropping slightly.

Well, shit, he thinks.

xxx

And, really, he should have _known_ that a "simple attraction" is bound to bloom into something more dangerous when given enough time and room to grow. He knows he should have restricted himself more. He was too lax, let the "He's really hard working, that's cool" kind of thoughts turn to the "He's kind of hot when he's sweaty" kind thoughts turn to...whatever that was during the match against Seijoh.

The petals of the hanahaki disease are deceptively beautiful. The petals are condensed enough to obstruct his esophagus when they come up, and sometimes the sheer amount of them is enough to make his vision blacken at the edges, so bad is the lack of oxygen. He's heard that people have died from this disease after having it long enough. He has his doubts about the validity of these tales, but that's mostly because he's of the opinion that death from unrequited love is a bit too dramatic for his mindset.

The coughing spells come once every couple of hours, and are spaced out farther apart the less he thinks about Shirabu. Easier said than done; Kawanishi only has so much control over thoughts of Shirabu when the latter is in his class and on the same team. He can't not think about Shirabu when he's _right there._ They eat lunch together, and Kawanishi knows how Shirabu pretends not to love whitebait as much as he does. Kawanishi knows the way Shirabu's hair falls when he leans over his notebook to write down notes in that uncannily pretty handwriting of his. Kawanishi knows the way Shirabu's long setter fingers play with his pencil. For someone who tries not to think about Shirabu, Kawanishi thinks about Shirabu a lot.

They're friends. Kawanishi is perfectly able of keeping his feelings out of their friendship. It sucks a little, being in love with someone that doesn't love him back, but it's not the end of the world, and his friendship with Shirabu is valuable to him even without a romantic layer. He hides the symptoms of his sickness as best as he can, and so far, he's been successful. He doesn't need to concern his team―or Shirabu―with a problem that will eventually go away on its own in due time.

They're on separate sides of the net during the practice match today. Kawanishi is doing well, in regards to the hanahaki disease; he anticipates the moments he knows Shirabu's shirt will ride up, exposing a smooth naval, and he trains his eyes on the setter's hands instead. It's taken him weeks to hone this skill. He has to sacrifice some of his attention on the game for this awareness, but it's worth it if it means staving off a coughing spell just a little longer. If his team notices his being distracted, no one comments on it. It probably passes off as laziness.

"Shirabu!" Semi shouts between plays. "Your hands are too flat when you send off the ball. Use your fingers more!"

Shirabu fixes a deadpan stare at the other setter. How he schools out all snark in his voice to reply is beyond Kawanishi. "I appreciate you paying attention to my setting skills instead of focusing on your own. That last toss you sent to Goshiki was too high, wasn't it?"

Semi reacts just the way Kawanishi expects: red-faced with anger and loudly protesting while Goshiki tries to assure Semi that "I can hit whatever kind of toss you give me, even if it's not the best!" Regardless of his good intentions, Goshiki's response only serves to escalate Semi's harmless rage. Kawanishi huffs a laugh under his breath. Shirabu manages to hear it and sends him a small, conspiratorial smile.

The hanahaki disease feels less like twirling petals and more like a thunderous siege in his chest.

He stays in for two more plays before he can't ignore the feeling any longer. He calls for a timeout and looks towards Saitou, who's been watching from the sidelines and taking notes on the players. "Can I take a short break?" He hopes his voice sounds steadier than it feels.

Saitou's brows furrow and he opens his mouth to speak, only to be cut off from an offensively loud voice. "Taichi! Are you kidding me right now?"

Washijou's booming voice dampens all other sounds in the gym. Kawanishi flinches and turns to look at his coach, who continues. "You've been flaking out on practice a lot lately! What's with all the breaks? You can't handle a little exertion?"

It's in his chest now. He holds the sickness down with willpower alone. "That's..." Kawanishi's not the clever one out of the second years. He can't come up with bratty but charming quips on the spot like Shirabu can. "It's just―"

"―unacceptable, is what it is! How can you possibly expect to continue being on the A team if you can't even make it through a single practice without running off? What would happen if this were a real match?"

He's hidden this from his team up until now, but he supposes they were bound to find out about it sooner or later.

He's pretty sure he temporarily blacks out, because the next thing he knows, he's staring down at a pile of petals the shade of a new volleyball, a flagrant contrast against the worn-out brown of the gymnasium, and it's silent. There are no shouts of "One touch!" or "Chance ball!" and no volleyballs bounce against floors or walls. He can't even hear anyone breathing.

His ears burn. He sets his expression in its usual noncommittal stare. He can't look anyone in the eye so he focuses on a mark on the wall to the left of Washijou's face.

After what feels like ages, Washijou speaks up with a normal volume, which is somehow worse than his typical shouting. "Go, Taichi. Practice is almost over anyways. We'll handle the cleanup."

Kawanishi doesn't know which one "cleanup" applies to, the equipment or the flowers, and he doesn't stick around to find out.

The team is relatively quiet when they come into the locker room. Even Tendou's needling of Semi and Ushijima is somewhat subdued. Semi's responses are half-hearted at best, and Ushijima doesn't reply at all. They all give Kawanishi, sitting on a bench to finish pulling on his socks and shoes, a wide berth. Kawanishi feels eerily calm. He has nothing left to hide now except who he has feelings for. He's taking that particular piece of knowledge to the grave.

He wants to look at Shirabu. He doesn't.

As Kawanishi stands up to leave, Oohira addresses the elephant in the room. "Kawanishi," he starts, but stops again. "It's hard," he ends up settling on. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, and no one's judging you. We get it."

"Yeah?" Even if his tone is lackadaisical, it still comes off as sharp. "You've had hanahaki before? You know what that's like?"

Oohira doesn't answer, which is an answer itself. Kawanishi is aware that the dig isn't exactly fair; hanahaki disease isn't rare throughout the student body, per se, but it's not the most common, either. Not with so many other things besides love to focus on when they're all here through exceptional academic achievement or a sports scholarship.

Kawanishi sighs, puts his hands on his hips, and looks up. "It's stressful, yeah. You guys don't have to worry about it, though. It'll pass eventually."

No one tries to talk to him again on the way out, but the next morning finds Ushijima of all people pulling him aside during practice before classes. "You should talk to the person you have feelings for," his captain says. Kawanishi appreciates the direct approach even as it makes him shift uncomfortably. Ushijima is a bit of an enigma. Kawanishi can't tell if he's addressing him out of actual concern or some weird misplaced feeling of duty to the team. "It will be a problem if you still have hanahaki disease when you and Shirabu become third years. You'll need to devote more of your time to the team. It's likely you'll become captain or vice captain, Kawanishi. You can't be distracted by unrequited love."

Kawanishi has been relatively relaxed about this whole ordeal, but having it put on a timeline for him makes it seem daunting. There hasn't been that much talk about captaincy for next year, even though there's been a tacit and tentative assumption that Kawanishi and Shirabu are the main candidates. What if he's still in love with Shirabu then? Would it really affect the team that much, as long as Kawanishi keeps it under wraps? "How would talking to that person help, exactly?" Kawanishi asks. "I already know they don't return my feelings."

"Either they will begin to return the feelings after knowing your own," Ushijima says, "or they won't, and the rejection will put you off enough to eliminate your feelings and therefore the sickness."

Ouch, Kawanishi thinks. "Thanks, Ushijima," he says dryly, but the sarcasm goes right over Ushijima, all 189 centimeters of him. He nods once and turns back to the court.

Ushijima's logic is simple, but not flawed. But he doesn't know that Kawanishi's feelings are for Shirabu, and confessing could sabotage the whole dynamic of the team. Kawanishi decides that, no, even if he has hanahaki still as a third year, he won't let it affect the team. It's not that relevant in the grand scheme of things. He's in love with Shirabu. He throws up petals. It's not the end of the world.

Kawanishi trails after his senior at a slightly less enthusiastic pace and sees Shirabu. The setter is looking straight at him with a troubled expression. Shirabu opens his mouth to say something, but closes it soon after. He ends up saying nothing at all.

Kawanishi, disturbingly, can feel the individual petals flitting around and multiplying in spades.

xxx

Washijou lets him step out of practice now. Kawanishi isn't expected to ask to leave anymore. He excuses himself from the gym when he feels hanahaki running its course, and he absolutely refuses to meet any of the sympathetic gazes his teammates give him as he passes. Even Washijou himself has some mixture of irritation and pity in the downward pull of his mouth these days, and that makes Kawanishi feel a little pathetic, but he pretends to ignore that, too.

It's a small blessing that both Kawanishi and Shirabu aren't the most talkative people. It means Shirabu doesn't ask much about Kawanishi having hanahaki disease.

Kawanishi has a coughing fit in front of Shirabu alone exactly one time. It comes about when they're walking to practice together after classes let out. Shirabu is talking about some test question that "was completely unfair, it was worded in a way that there could have been two different answers" (even though Kawanishi thinks Shirabu is just bitter about only getting that one question wrong on the whole test). Kawanishi is trying to listen, really, but he's paying more attention to Shirabu's voice itself, soft and enunciated, and charmingly irritated.

_Holy shit, I'm in love with this guy._

It doesn't take more than that to launch him into a violent upheaval of flowers.

There aren't that many petals in this one, but it makes his chest and throat hurt more than usual. He instinctively grabs his own throat. He feels a hand between his shoulder blades, and it must be _Shirabu's hand,_ lain there out of concern or pity, and the realization makes more petals spew out.

When it passes, he takes a few moments to collect his bearings before standing back up. Shirabu's hand still presses between his shoulder blades, and he looks at Kawanishi with unfettered concern. "That sounded...really bad," he says.

"Yeah," says Kawanishi.

"Is it...normally that bad?"

"Sometimes."

"And it just...happens randomly like that?"

Well, Kawanishi thinks. No, it doesn't, and what happened just now wasn't exactly random. But Shirabu doesn't need to know that. "Eh...depends, I guess," he says glibly, and walks on ahead, pretending not to hear Shirabu asking "Depends on what?"

xxx

The day they play against Karasuno High School isn't the worst day of Kawanishi's life, but it certainly does debut near the top of Kawanishi's list of shitty days.

Kawanishi is one of the first ones to board the bus. It's early, and it's spring so it's still chilly in the early morning, and Kawanishi just wants to go back to bed. His chest is burning in the aftermath of the coughing spell that had woken him up early in the morning. He supposes that that's what he deserves for deigning to bring Shirabu into his dreams.

The hanahaki disease might be getting worse.

Shirabu, who is also absolutely _not_ a morning person, is one of the last on the bus, and he comes in looking like he's cranky enough to pick a fight with a bear. It's cute. Kawanishi tries to push that thought out of his head because he's going to cough his throat raw soon if he keeps on triggering the hanahaki. Shirabu spots the empty space next to Kawanishi and immediately throws himself into the seat with a small huff of irritation.

"Sleep well?" Kawanishi says lightly, trying to ignore the press of Shirabu's arm against his side.

"Eat shit," Shirabu replies without missing a beat. Kawanishi laughs softly. Even Shirabu's cussing is endearing. Kawanishi has to restrain himself from banging his head on the window after the realization. He certainly would be coughing right now if he hadn't had such a strong fit already this morning.

One of Shirabu's knees knock up against Kawanishi's thigh a few times. Kawanishi can overlook the touch until the bus jerks into action, and that movement combined with a few turns results in the whole length of Shirabu's leg pressed firmly to Kawanishi's. Warmth seeps up Kawanishi's body from the point of contact.

The inevitable coughing spell, thankfully, does not come until after they've gotten off the bus, but it's sudden and it rips through Kawanishi like blades. Kawanishi struggles to make sure that he doesn't breathe back in any of the expulsion. His teammates respectfully turn away, all of them except for Shirabu, who hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on Kawanishi's arm, a steadying grip through his hacking fit.

"Hang in there," Shirabu mutters once it's over. He draws away and follows the rest of the team as they make their way to the building.

"Doing my best, here," Kawanishi says to himself in a raw voice, before he follows as well.

xxx

They lose.

Kawanishi has never lost in a single game against a Miyagi team.

On the other side of the net, the Karasuno players are just as surprised as the Shiratorizawa ones are, all wide eyes, shaking legs, and dropped jaws. The roar of the crowd is obscured by the ringing in his ears. Everyone is panting and covered, soaked, in sweat. They've never worked that hard in a game before.

Kawanishi can't feel his legs as they stumble back towards the sidelines―they might as well not be attached to his body. He finds himself next to Shirabu, who, he realizes after the ringing in his ears subsides, is talking to Oohira.

"...losing this match didn't seem like a viable option," Shirabu is saying, face as blank as Kawanishi's.

"Well, yeah," Oohira says. "If you thought that we'd lose, you wouldn't really have a right to be here right now."

Ah, Kawanishi thinks. They care too much, so it hurts, and Kawanishi knows that feeling probably better than a lot of people by now. He's sweating so much that he initially mistakes his tears for drops of sweat before he realizes what's happening. He looks up, slamming his eyes shut to hold back the tears. It feels a little like holding back petals, somehow.

Then Shirabu gives a small hiccup beside him, a quiet cry of his own. Shirabu's pain is worse to Kawanishi than his own. He gently thumps the back of Shirabu's jersey, but his hand stays for a moment, hovering over the number 10 before settling just below it. "Shirabu," he says, "you did really well." Kawanishi isn't good with words, and he doesn't know if he helps or not when Shirabu's next sob is louder than the last, cut off by Shirabu biting down on his lower lip to stifle any subsequent noises. He leans into Kawanishi's side. Kawanishi hopes he can comfort Shirabu at least a little bit. He feels hanahaki's petals, but the urge to cough them up isn't dire. He can cope.

Shirabu stays tucked against his side until they get to the locker room, but presses back again on their way back to the bus. He says nothing at all, only following along with the rest of the team and sticking close to Kawanishi. He doesn't slump on him, per se, when they sit together, but they're touching from their shoulders to their knees.

After the bus rumbles to a start, Shirabu breaks his silence. "Kawanishi?"

"Yeah?"

"Be honest with me, please. Was it my fault?"

Shirabu doesn't need to elaborate; it's on all of their minds right now. "No," Kawanishi says honestly. "You're one of the driving forces of our team, you know? That doesn't mean the team's failure is your own, though. We didn't beat Karasuno this time, but we will next time. Don't overthink it."

They both know Shirabu will overthink it, but they don't dwell on it. "Next time, huh?" says Shirabu. The edges of his lips are quirked upward. "We won't have Ushijima or Tendou or the other third years for the next time we face Karasuno."

"We wont need them by then," Kawanishi says honestly.

Shirabu hums. "That outlook seems sacrilegious, somehow." The smile is gone now, but his eyes seem to sparkle, and Kawanishi can't look away. "You know," Shirabu continues, "you and I will probably take captaincy. There aren't any other second years on the A team. You'll have to work harder if we're going to beat Karasuno."

Kawanishi remembers his loss today, and even know there's a feeling of hopelessness he can't shake off. He remembers the sound of Shirabu's choked-off sobs. If working hard to keep his team at the top is what it will take to keep them both happy, Kawanishi thinks he can manage to expend a little more effort. "Troublesome," he says, leaning his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes. "I suppose it can't be helped, though."

"You know, this is the most motivated I've ever heard you sound."

"It'll never happen again," Kawanishi vows solemnly. Shirabu laughs. It's an exhausted, defeated sound, but it's open and everything Kawanishi needs. Kawanishi thinks his whole existence zeroes in on that sound for just a few blissful moments.

xxx

They don't have practice for three days following the prefecture playoffs. Kawanishi had been hoping for a week off, but he knows that that hope was pushing it, seeing as they have Washijou for a coach. Kawanishi sluggishly goes through the motions of school life. The tournament―and losing to Karasuno, especially―has taken a lot more out of him than he had thought it would. He doesn't talk to Shirabu outside of lunch. Things have been easier where the hanahaki disease is concerned; he hasn't had any coughing spells since the match with Karasuno. Kawanishi isn't particularly in tune with his feelings, but he knows he hasn't magically stopped loving Shirabu. If anything, those feelings are stronger than ever. He's pretty sure that his body is too tired to feed into the hanahaki disease, or something like that. He doesn't know about the science behind it all. What he does know is that he's still exhausted, and seeing Shirabu makes him happy with no side effects involving petals.

Well, mostly happy, anyways. Shirabu has been acting strangely ever since the Karasuno match. He keeps staring at Kawanishi with this weird expression: brows puckered, blinking rapidly, and mouth slightly parted.

"What is it?" Kawanishi asks during one of the moments he catches that stare during their lunch period on the second day of their mini-vacation.

Oddly enough, a magnificent flush blooms across Shirabu's face, bright and pink and enamoring. It looks beautiful there. "Nothing," says Shirabu. He quickly shoves a scoop of his bento into his mouth. There's a piece of rice stuck in the shadow of his lower lip, a clumsy move unlike Shirabu. He's flustered for some reason.

"You have a―" Kawanishi makes a vague gesture in the general vicinity of his own mouth. Shirabu does a cursory swipe across his chin and misses the grain completely. "Here," Kawanishi says, using his thumb to sweep it off. Shirabu's lips are soft and warm, and Kawanishi lets himself imagine what they would taste like if he were to kiss them. Heat rises to his face.

Shirabu abruptly stands up. "I―. I have to go. I'll see you at pra― tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Kawanishi."

He leaves Kawanishi staring at the spot he was standing in just a moment ago. Distantly Kawnaishi thinks that the intensity of this exchange should have set off the hanahaki disease, but he feels...fine. Strange, but he pushes it out of his mind. He's not the type to worry about things that aren't problems.

xxx

The next day is when their practice is scheduled to resume. To Kawanishi's surprise, he finds himself looking forward to it. The break isn't as long as he had hoped for, but he's itching for the feel of a volleyball in his hand. He knows he doesn't come across as an ambitious individual, but Kawanishi loves volleyball just as much as anyone else on his team.

The third years will probably give speeches today, and the next captain and vice captain are likely to be named. He's...almost eager for the announcement. The more he considers it, the more resolved he becomes in the faith that he and Shirabu will make a force to be reckoned with. They compliment each other; Kawanishi has a good sense of the game and can see himself interpreting Shirabu's huffs and glares to the underclassmen. Shirabu, with his calm intensity that belies a wicked competitive streak, can motivate Kawanishi and inspire complete trust in their setter.

He's thinking about this on the way to the gym when he spots Shirabu himself leaning against the wall. The hallway they're in is the only one that leads from the main academic building to the gymnasium, so Kawanishi can think of only one reason Shirabu is lurking here. "Waiting for someone?"

Shirabu...is frustrated, Kawanishi realizes. There's something there that reminds Kawanishi of the look Shirabu gets when he's starting to lose his composure in the middle of a game, except less angry and more unsure. It's cute. Worrying, but cute all the same.

"I'm waiting for you," says Shirabu. "We need to talk."

Kawanishi blinks. Then he points towards the gym. "Is it...is it about volleyball? Today's going to be an important meeting, right? We should probably go to that before―"

"No, it's not about volleyball," Shirabu snaps. "It has nothing to do with volleyball. And it can't wait, or else I'm going to be distracted throughout the whole evening. Just come with me."

"Alright, alright," Kawanishi says to pacify Shirabu, who is already turning on his heel to lead them out of the hall and through a side door that spills them out into the unoccupied shadow of the building. It's warmer now than it was a few days ago. Through the cracked open windows, Kawanishi can already hear a few volleyballs slapping against the gymnasium floor.

"So...what's up?"

Shirabu takes a deep breath. That pretty blush is back again, a light dust over his cheeks. He looks Kawanishi straight in the eye and says, "I don't know anything about hanahaki disease."

Kawanishi startles, because that is the absolute _last_ topic he expected from this conversation. "O...kay? Do you have questions about it or something? I'm not the best with words but I can try to―"

"Just shut up until I'm done, okay? Just. Be quiet. Please," Shirabu adds. "I don't know anything about hanahaki disease. Or, to be accurate, I didn't. I didn't know if there's a grace period between developing feelings and developing symptoms, and I didn't know the intervals between coughing spells." Shirabu pauses, searching for the right words before he continues. "I thought for sure I'd get it, though, on that day―the day we fought Karasuno."

Kawanishi's heart rate picks up.

"But then I didn't. I thought that maybe it just needed a day or so before the coughing started. Then another day passed, and I hadn't coughed once." Shirabu clears his throat. He can't meet Kawanishi's eyes anymore, but Kawanishi himself can't look away for even a moment. "So, um. I looked it up. Apparently the first coughing spell of hanahaki disease comes within an hour or two of first gaining the feeling of...love."

Kawanishi can feel the pulse in his ears.

"So I...I never got hanahaki at all. And I know my feelings, so I also know that there can really only be one conclusion. The only way I wouldn't get hanahaki is because you...you return my feelings, Taichi."

Shirabu's eyes are on Kawanishi again, and Kawanishi is struck with that image of Shirabu looking up at him like this, open, face flushed, eyes bright. Kawanishi can't honestly believe this is happening; it seems too good to be true.

Silence stretches on between them. Shirabu's brows draw downwards. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Kawanishi swallows. His throat is dry and burns. "You told me to shut up," he says. He can barely think.

Shirabu scowls. "Only until the end of it! Say something!"

"You," Kawanishi says in disbelief. "You have feelings for me?"

"Did I stutter?"

Kawanishi knows that Shirabu's grumpiness stems from his embarrassment. Kawanishi is disgusted with himself over how cute he thinks it is.

"No."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're―"

My world, Kawanishi doesn't say, and instead pulls Shirabu in with a hand hooked around the back of his neck and kisses him. Shirabu goes from all hard lines to soft curves in an instant, like maybe he was waiting for this. Imagining it, maybe. The thought makes his toes curl. Kawanishi pulls Shirabu in closer and anchors him with a hand on his waist. When they pull away, Kawanishi keeps his nose pressed to Shirabu's. They breathe in each other's air. Kawanishi's lungs are free of petals, but his stomach feels full of restless butterflies. It's amazing.

"You had hanahaki disease for weeks," Shirabu says. "When...?"

"The Seijoh match."

"That long?"

"Mmm."

Shirabu is the one to kiss him this time. Kawanishi feels no urgency sliding their lips together; he could be floating, for all he knows.

"You even kiss lazily," Shirabu complains when they part, and Kawanishi laughs.

"Conserving energy for more kissing later," Kawanishi says just to see Shirabu go red all over again.

They're late for practice. It's worth Washijou's scolding.

**Author's Note:**

> the kawashira tag is barren and even though i haven't written fanfiction since 2012 i will endeavor to fix this
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](http://oikawasnipples.tumblr.com)


End file.
